


No Place for Saints

by nu-exo (Nekohime)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M, Mentions of Blood, assassin kyungsoo, bounty hunter baekhyun, concerned Jongdae, mention of an off screen rape, middle ages AU, semi graphic fight scenes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 05:37:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14254143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nekohime/pseuds/nu-exo
Summary: When Kyungsoo - a highly efficient assassin - and Baekhyun - a bounty hunter who prefers to bring his targets in dead rather than alive - get hired to take each other out, they accept without thinking twice.  Surely, it's the universe telling them to finish the grudge match that's been on hold for years now.  They don't stop to think that there may be ulterior motives in setting them on each other, a misstep that might cost them their lives if they don't suck it up and learn to work together.





	No Place for Saints

**Author's Note:**

> Ticket No. 507  
> Warnings: Semi graphic descriptions of fight scenes with mentions of blood, there is the mention of an off screen rape involving an extremely minor character but it's very brief  
> Pairing: Baekhyun/Kyungsoo  
> Time Period: Middle Ages
> 
> Author's Note: First of all, thank you to the Mods for running this fest and being so understanding about everything :') Second, thank you to the prompter for such a great prompt! The story got away from me and has been getting so much longer than I anticipated so for now here's part 1. Part 2 will be up as soon as I have it finished I promise!! Hopefully I've done this prompt some justice.

The city streets were quiet, the gentle hum of prayer floating softly out the windows of a nearby mosque.  The capital’s citizens had all moved inside for their midday prayer, leaving no one outside to witness a lone hooded figure dressed in layers of well-worn white robes slinking along the empty streets.  There was no one to notice the leather bracers hidden under loose sleeves, or the occasional flash of cold, hard steel when the figure’s robes shifted just so.

It was just as well as far as Kyungsoo was concerned.  The predictable time table of the Ottoman empire’s people allowed him to move about without catching unwanted attention from patrolling soldiers.  The less attention he garnered from the city’s guards, the less blood would need to be spilled, and the better Kyungsoo would be paid in the end.  A win-win situation for all involved, really.

Turning down a side alley, Kyungsoo softened his steps, his feet barely making any sound as he entered one of the housing areas closest to the palace where all the high-ranking court officials resided. 

He had to be more careful here.  While the streets of the commoner’s section were largely unguarded at this time of day, those of the upper class were manned by the foreign mercenaries kept in the empire’s military employ who didn’t have any religious obligations.

Kyungsoo was forced to duck down narrow alleys and into alcoves to avoid being spotted, killing one young guard when he repositioned himself in such a way that he was blocking the assassin’s progress forward.  The guard hadn’t even had time to turn before a dagger was being shoved up into his back, a strong arm coming across his neck to hold him in place as Kyungsoo’s blade slipped through muscle and between ribs to pierce his heart.  The young man died with a gurgle, Kyungsoo already dragging him away into the shadows, hiding him so that the body wouldn’t be found until Kyungsoo was long gone.

Ironically enough, once past the guards patrolling outside, getting into the pasha’s home unseen was actually a rather simple task.

He pulled himself in through a window, slinking down the empty halls like a cat.  From weeks of observation, Kyungsoo knew the pasha took prayer in his home, utilizing a room he’d had built so that he didn’t need to “mingle with the masses”.  Not a very holy sentiment, in Kyungsoo’s opinion, but it made his job easier so who was he to complain.

Quickly dispatching the two men standing watch outside the pasha’s prayer room, Kyungsoo pushed open the wooden door, not bothering with silence since he was sure it’s inhabitant had already realized his presence.

The pasha let out an ungainly squeak of terror when Kyungsoo stepped into the room, attempting to scramble away from the assassin on shaking legs.  Tripping over the length of his robes, the old pasha whimpered, stuttering out a stream of desperate pleas.

“Apologies, _pasha_ ,” Kyungsoo told the man in lilting Turkish, drawing out a small blade from his belt as he advanced forward.  “It seems someone amongst the Divan has decided your presence to be a nuisance worth being rid of.”

The old man paled, grasping at the hem of Kyungsoo’s robes, offering him gold and power in between full-body sobs.  A particularly hard tug dislodged Kyungsoo’s hood from where it was already sliding off his head, the pasha hissing out a surprised “ _Khitay_ ” when he saw Kyungsoo’s face.

“Not quite,” Kyungsoo said, his lips curling at the edges.  “Although I suppose there’s no way for you to know any better.”

Before the pasha could say anything else, Kyungsoo brought the small knife in his hand across the pasha’s throat in one smooth motion.  Kyungsoo side-stepped the first spurt of blood, removing the old man’s grip from his clothes and letting the body crumple to the floor.  The assassin crouched down, careful to avoid the rapidly forming pool of blood, and cut off the finger bearing the pasha’s signet ring.

Proof obtained, Kyungsoo cleaned his blade on the dead man’s robes and exited his home the way he’d come, his work there completed.

 

 

Kyungsoo was out of the upper-class district and sitting in a dingy tavern before the first bells tolled, signaling that the city’s guard had found the pasha’s body.

 _Three hours,_ Kyungsoo mused, drumming his fingers on the surface of the wooden table he was seated at.  _Slightly faster than the last time._

The door to the tavern opened and Kyungsoo flicked his eyes over to see who’d walked in.  If the draping cloak and giant hood covering every bit of face wasn’t enough to identify the man, then the nervous, hunched over way he carried himself would’ve done the trick.  Years of dealing with clientele incapable of being inconspicuous had given Kyungsoo the self-control to reign in the urge to roll his eyes – as an exasperated child would’ve done – but it still hadn’t given him the ability to control the ire that instantly built up at having to deal with other people.

“The bells,” his client said in way of greeting as he took the seat across from Kyungsoo, his eyes darting around the room, “I take it the deed is done?”

“As was requested,” Kyungsoo told him, sliding a small, linen wrapped bundle towards the man.  “Haci Mehmed Pasha is no longer a concern.”

The client picked up the bundle, peeling back some of the linen to almost drop it immediately after.  Kyungsoo raised an eyebrow, watching in mild amusement as the man’s face drained of color.

“You had asked for proof.”

“The ring would’ve been enough!” his client hissed, glancing around and lowering his voice before continuing.  “You took his _finger_.”

Kyungsoo shrugged.  “Any street urchin worth their salt could swipe a ring off a person’s hand.  You paid me a hefty initial sum to ensure the pasha met his end. I’m merely providing what you paid for.”

Making a distressed whine high in his throat, the client wrapped the bit of unraveled linen back around the finger and tucked it into his robes with a grimace.

“I had heard the _khitay_ tended towards savagery,” he scoffed, missing the way Kyungsoo’s expression darkened, “but I suppose the job _was_ taken care of.”

His client pulled a small satchel out of the folds of his robes, haphazardly shoving it towards Kyungsoo, again missing the brewing storm in the assassin’s expression.  _What a poor sense of self-preservation_ , Kyungsoo mused, hands itching towards his blades.

“That is the rest of the money, and the end of our arrangement. Feel free to count it.”

Kyungsoo picked up the satchel, weighing it in his hand briefly before tucking it into his belt.  He watched as his client stood and pushed himself away from the table, rearranging his hood and cloak.  He gave Kyungsoo a terse nod, still not making eye-contact with the assassin. 

“Well then, that should be all. Good day.”

A smarter man would’ve never taken his eyes off Kyungsoo.  His client – who’d only ever given the name Hamid, as if that would stop Kyungsoo from being able to track him down – unfortunately was not a smarter man.  Instead, he swept out of the tavern, too hurried to be inconspicuous.  He was so obviously concerned with avoiding curious eyes that he missed Kyungsoo following him out into the streets, tailing him like a shadow.

 

Hamid ducked down alleyways and side streets, his hood pulled low.  He jumped like a skittish calf at every loud shout from a vendor, his heart nearly beating out of his chest when someone tapped him on the shoulder.  Hamid spun around, eyes wide, only to see a face he didn’t recognize pointing to something on the ground, the person’s mouth forming words his frazzled mind couldn’t process.

Hamid looked down.  He’d dropped the finger.

He smiled at the man, picked up the wrapped finger, turned and all but ran.  Not stopping until he was in a quieter more familiar area surrounded by homes on all sides.  He let out a heavy sigh of relief.  When the hit came, he didn’t see it coming.

 

Kyungsoo full body tackled the older man, pinning him to the wall with a dagger pressed to his throat.  Hamid whimpered, bottom lip trembling, a line of sweat dripping down his face.

“You said the _khitay_ were savages, but is it the practice of civilized men to cheat those they hire, Hamid?” Kyungsoo asked, his voice deathly calm.

“I- I don’t-“

“No, no,” Kyungsoo cut in, bringing up a second blade to press it to the man’s stomach.  “Don’t do that.”

“D-Do wha- what?” Hamid stuttered out, tears forming in his eyes.

“Lie to me,” Kyungsoo said simply.  He tilted his head, eyes as cold as the steel of his blades.  “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice you didn’t give me the amount we’d agreed upon?”

Hamid’s skin paled, his eyes wide and mouth gaping.  The most he managed to squeak out was a barely audible: “I’ll get the rest.”

The smile Kyungsoo gave him held no warmth.  “No need.”

He brought his dagger across the older man’s throat in one swift motion, ignoring the spray of blood that sprang forth.  Hamid slumped to the ground with a dying gurgle, blood bubbling out of his mouth, trying to grab for Kyungsoo’s robes with the last of his strength.

“I have no patience for fools who don’t value their own life,” Kyungsoo stated, easily brushing Hamid’s hands off.  “You should’ve just paid me.”

 

 

Kyungsoo was four days out of the Ottoman capital, nearing the empire’s border when he found himself blocked off by two armed men on horseback.  Their faces were covered and they wore heavy traveling cloaks, no crests or insignias in sight.  Kyungsoo had noticed them the second they’d started tailing him.  Hard not to, really.  The men had been following too close, the rubble kicked loose from their horses’ foot falls and the clink of their swords easily reaching Kyungsoo’s sensitive ears.

 _Not trained in stealth_ , Kyungsoo thought, keeping his posture open and unthreatening.  _Killers, then, but not like me_.

“Can I help you gentlemen?” Kyungsoo asked in Turkish, his tone light.  He’d changed out of his bloodied outer layers into fresh linen, and all his blades were carefully hidden on his body, his short sword wrapped and strapped to the side of his saddle.  If his body language didn’t give it away, the men in front of him had no reason to suspect his true nature or skill.

“We were sent to find a man called the Wraith,” the bulkiest of the two called back in poorly accented Turkish, his horse whickering under him.

The small movement needed for the man to readjust on his saddle shifted his traveling cloak just enough for Kyungsoo to catch a flash of his sword’s pommel.  A cross bisecting two circles.  The man quickly covered it up again, but Kyungsoo had seen.

Biting back a smile, Kyungsoo tilted his head.  “And what do two of Lord Bada’s retainers want with the Wraith?”

To their credit, neither man’s expression changed, although they did tighten their grips on their reins.

“We’re just looking to talk with him,” the other spoke up.  His voice was clearer and his accent less noticeable.  Educated, then, likely high ranking, probably some lesser noble’s son.

Kyungsoo looked them both up and down again.  A noble and a sell-sword.  Interesting.

“It’s a long trip from East Anglia to Ottoman territory to just talk,” Kyungsoo said, switching to English.  He raised an eyebrow, discreetly re-positioning his hands so he had a grip on one of his wrist blades.  “So, either tell me what your master wants or let me pass.”

The two men regarded Kyungsoo, before the young noble removed the cloth obscuring the lower half of his face, the sell-sword reluctantly copying him when prompted.

“Our lord has traveled far to request your presence. He would like to make use of your…services.”

Kyungsoo chuckled under his breath, amusement dancing in his eyes.  The younger of the two retainers must not have been very battle tested if he found such obvious distaste with Kyungsoo’s profession.

“Your lord is here then?” Kyungsoo asked.  “I’m impressed. I’d heard he was entering his final years. To make the necessary voyage he must be rather desperate.”

The noble grimaced.  “Our lord is in perfect health I assure y-“

“Very well,” Kyungsoo said, making a snap decision and cutting the man off.  He gestured forward with a wave of his hand.  “You’ve piqued my interest. Lead the way.”

The sell-sword narrowed his eyes at Kyungsoo, blatantly suspicious of how quickly the assassin had given in.  The noble, on the other hand, who really couldn’t have been much older than Kyungsoo himself, smirked as if he had been the sole reason Kyungsoo was complying with their request.  He gladly turned his horse and began to trot ahead, Kyungsoo falling in behind him with the bulky sell-sword bringing up the rear.

The young retainer talked the entire ride.  Kyungsoo had tuned him out somewhere between his compliments of the current King and his condemnation of the Ottoman Empire’s land grab practices.  A casual glance around, told Kyungsoo the sell-sword had done the same, his eyes having taken on a glazed over quality to them.

Kyungsoo snorted.  The men were lucky he had no intention of riding off without them, or killing them for that matter (although that could change depending on how talks with Lord Bada went).  Lord Bada’s reputation of having deep pockets was the only reason Kyungsoo was going along with all this.  Deep pockets and evident desperation meant Kyungsoo could probably live off this job for a while if all went well, and if he decided to take it he would make sure it went well.

 

The small town the Saxon’s led him to could barely even be called that.  It wasn’t quite a village – too many stalls, vendors, and shady taverns with shifty customers eager to remain anonymous to be a village – but too small to be an actual town.  They hitched their horses up outside one of the more respectable looking taverns, Kyungsoo making sure to flash his blades so those eyeing up his mount wouldn’t get any ideas, letting the steel catch in the sunlight.  The last thing he needed right now was to lose his horse because his interest in earning more money had gotten the best of him.

The inside of the tavern wasn’t much better than the outside, the stale smell of sweat, liquor, and unwashed clothes making the air almost unbreathable.  Both Saxon men grimaced the second they stepped in, the noble’s hand making an aborted motion to cover his nose.  Kyungsoo, used to having to do work in low places, didn’t even bat an eye.

Once inside it was easy to spot Lord Bada and his small retinue of men.  Even wrapped in what he must’ve thought were plain robes, Lord Bada still carried an air of superiority with him that would’ve singled him out from a crowd.  That and his uncovered face which had a decidedly Saxon shape to it, along with a pallor that came from growing up in a land that was gray and miserable most seasons.

“You are not an easy man to find,” Bada said in greeting when they reached the table.

Kyungsoo slid into the seat across the older man, leaving his hands folded together on top of the wooden table to put Bada’s guards at ease.  “Occupational necessity.”

“Mm,” Bada hummed, covering his mouth with a handkerchief as a hacking cough wracked his body.  There were flecks of blood on the cloth when he removed it, confirming the rumors Kyungsoo had heard whispering around.  Lord Bada, entering his fiftieth year, was dying.  “Understandable. Frankly, if it were any different I would doubt what I’ve heard about your skills. You’ve garnered quite the reputation considering how young you seem to be, although I’ll admit, it’s hard for me to tell the ages of the few countrymen from Thina I’ve come across.”

Kyungsoo gave the old lord a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, not bothering to correct Bada’s mistaken assumption of where he was from.  He’d learned long ago that it was a waste of breath to try and explain that his homeland was even further south, a country split in three by kingdoms trying to get the upper hand on each other.

“You’ve been keeping low company, my lord, if you’ve heard of me.”

Bada laughed, the sound trailing off into more coughing.  Kyungsoo resisted a grimace.  He’d have to burn his clothes and bathe in hot water after this, in case whatever the older man had was contagious.

“Indeed I have. It’s the nature of court life if you wish to gain any _real_ power.”  His eyes glittered in the tavern’s dim lighting, a glimpse of the beast that was the true Lord Bada.

This time, Kyungsoo couldn’t resist the amused smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips.  “Fair enough. What is it you need of me that you traveled the sea for?”

Bada resettled his robes, straightening his posture into something more lordly and commanding.  “Have you ever heard of the bounty hunter people call the Fang of the North?”

Kyungsoo stiffened.  The long scar running down his back - the most prominent one he had – burned at the memory of a cold night spent escaping through the woods of Mercia.  Pretty hands skilled with a sword, and a manic grin plastered on a handsome face.  The only time Kyungsoo hadn’t been able to take out his target.  The only mark in his otherwise perfect record.

“I’ve heard of the name,” Kyungsoo eventually said, once he’d breathed away the flash of red in his vision.  “What about him?”

Bada smiled, picking up on the murderous intent slipping through Kyungsoo’s mask of indifference.

“I want him gone. Simple as that. And I don’t trust anyone but the best to do it.”

“The Fang of the North is hard to kill, the price will be high,” Kyungsoo told him, as if Bada wouldn’t be able to pay and Kyungsoo wasn’t going to agree.

“I’m well aware,” Bada said.  “To that end, I’m willing to pay you your weight in silver for the Fang’s head.”

Kyungsoo raised an eyebrow.  “Make it both his weight and mine and you have yourself a deal.”

Lord Bada laughed, unbothered by the increase in asking price.  He broke out into another coughing fit, his grin turning macabre with the blood that collected in his mouth, tinting his teeth.

“You have yourself a deal.”  He stood from his seat, gathering his robes about him and pulling his hood up.  He gestured to one of his men and Kyungsoo found himself catching a rather heavy satchel.  “You’ll get the rest when the Fang is dead. I look forward to the next time we meet.”

Kyungsoo watched, the picture of cool disinterest as Lord Bada and his men left the tavern, likely setting off to wherever they would be staying for the night.  Kyungsoo stayed at the table, taking deep breaths in and out, trying to quell the storm brewing just under the surface of his skin.

It wasn’t working.

His mind was running away from him, already cataloguing what he would need, which plans were viable and which would likely get him killed.  The Fang of the North was operating closer to the Northumbrian border last Kyungsoo had heard, and if he was causing trouble for Lord Bada then he was going as far south as East Anglia at the very least.  It was a big search parameter but Kyungsoo had worked with less before.

His hands unconsciously curled into fists on the table, body thrumming with anticipation.  Kyungsoo couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this excited before a job.  He’d gone after other assassins before, others like him, but it hadn’t been the same.  The Fang of the North was different.  If Kyungsoo closed his eyes he could still see the bounty hunter’s swords dancing in the moonlight, weighted steel ruthlessly aiming for even the smallest opening.  Dark eyes glittering with undisguised glee despite the bleeding cut running from his brow to his cheek.

Kyungsoo’s lips twitched.  He had a lot of work to do before crossing the sea.  He’d have to travel south first, pay a visit to Yixing to restock on poultices and herbs, maybe get some more bandages just to be safe.  Then he’d have to go see Chanyeol to have his weapons checked over, which would be a pain in the ass, but necessary.  The taller man was annoying and his smiling put Kyungsoo on edge – a fact the idiot was well aware of and took advantage of – but he knew blades like no one else.  It didn’t hurt that they’d grown up together, surviving on the streets in a foreign land, doing whatever they had to to survive.

Actually, Kyungsoo mused, if he played his cards right he might even be able to get a new sword.  Chanyeol guarded his hand-crafted blades like a mother bear, but Kyungsoo was confident he could haggle one off of him.

Kyungsoo’s plan was solidifying in his head when a heavy hand came down on his shoulder.  Probably some fool who saw Lord Bada’s man toss him the satchel of silver and thought it’d be a good idea to try and bully it out of him.

The man had barely opened his mouth, an inane threat on the tip of his tongue, before Kyungsoo pulled out one of his thinner daggers and stabbed it back and up into the man’s throat.  The would-be thief went down with a startled gurgle, his friends jumping to attention with loud, angry shouts.  Kyungsoo almost didn’t hear them, his mind already running through the woods of Mercia.  The man’s friends charged.  Kyungsoo smiled.

 

 

The sun was kissing the horizon when Kyungsoo finally stepped out of the tavern.  His sun-bleached robes were covered in blood, his skin not doing much better, drying spatters starting to itch on his face.  Kyungsoo had never felt better though.

He took a deep breath, the cool evening air filling his lungs.  His head felt blissfully clear, focused despite the way his blood was thrumming through his veins.

 _The Fang of the North, huh?_   Kyungsoo grinned, feral and sharp.  _Just you wait._   _I’m coming for you, Baekhyun_. 

 

 

 

 

 

Baekhyun was good at what he did.  Good because he’d never failed to claim a bounty once he’d decided to go after them.  Good because he rarely caused collateral damage.  Good, because he actually _liked_ what he did.

He liked the thrill that raced down his spine when he was on a hunt, the way adrenaline flooded his system and heightened his senses.  He liked how the weight of his sword felt in his hand, and how it felt to fight with his life on the line, throwing everything on the table if necessary.  His Saxon contacts called him a mad savage behind his back, too scared to say it to his face.  Eirik said it was because he’d spent too much time around Vikings.  Which was fair considering Eirik’s father had taken Baekhyun in as a child and raised him as his own. 

If Baekhyun was being honest, he still couldn’t understand what Gunnar had seen in him all those years ago to decide that the waif of a boy Baekhyun had been when he’d stumbled off that trade ship was worth taking a chance on, but he was thankful for it every day.  Especially since if their positions had been reversed, Baekhyun isn’t sure he would’ve done the same.  He’d been an awfully skinny, underfed whelp, after all, surviving almost purely on anger and spite.  He’d even tried to bite off Gunnar’s hand the first time they met.

 _That’s probably what sold him on me, though,_ Baekhyun mused, wiping off the blood on his sword with a rag and some snow.  _The potential._

“P-Please.”

Baekhyun looked up, a lazy smirk tilting up one corner of his mouth as he regarded the man in front of him.  Eadgar, a servant of house Alden, was a stocky man with a soft, plentiful stomach.  He had an unpleasant face, his crying and sniveling only making it worse, scarred from a lifetime of petty fights and strong-arming people for his lord.  He stood a good head taller than Baekhyun- or, at least he used to.  Now, all he could do was slowly crawl away, one hand grasping at the damp, snow covered ground while the other clutched desperately at the bleeding stump that used to be his right leg.

“Please what?” Baekhyun asked, tone saccharine despite the ice in his eyes.  “Please let you live? I’m afraid I can’t do that. You see,” Baekhyun advanced on the man, smile growing when Eadgar let out a pathetic whimper, “You have quite the price on your head. Something about raping and murdering the only daughter of Lord Dunstan, heir to house Frye, before cutting her up into pieces to destroy the evidence of your crime.”

Eadger’s eyes widened, his pupils shaking, his tiny brain clearly trying to come up with a viable lie.

“T-Tha’ wasn’t me,” he slurred out, lips going blue around the edges.  Baekhyun had made sure to strip him of his outer layers, leaving him in only his thin under-tunic.  “I-I would never-“

“Ah, ah, ah.”  Baekhyun crouched in front of the bullish man, noting the way Eadgar’s hand was slowly inching towards a large snow-covered rock.  Baekhyun pulled out his dagger, a wickedly sharp, straight blade the length of his forearm, and tapped it against Eadgar’s nose.  “There’s really no point in lying. You’re not good at it and there was a witness, a young servant girl from the Frye household.”

Eadgar’s mouth hung open, floundering.  His hand curled around the rock and Baekhyun’s grin turned downright feral.  Like a predator playing with its prey.  Eadgar sputtered something out at the same time that he swung the rock around, aiming for Baekhyun’s head.

Baekhyun didn’t even bat an eye, quickly slicing his dagger, severing Eadgar’s hand and lunging forward in the same motion.  He sat on the larger man’s chest, using his body weight to pin him down as Eadgar screamed. 

“Is that what you did to the Frye girl? Bash her over the head when you were done with her?” Baekhyun asked, tone conversational, tip of his dagger held casually against his bounty’s throat.  “Or did you knock her out first and then fuck her?”

Eadgar continued screaming.

“It’s okay, you don’t need to answer,” Baekhyun continued, tilting his head as he regarded the man below him.  “Doesn’t matter how you did it. Just that you did it.”

“Just kill me already, you fucking barbarian” the older man finally managed to spit out from between clenched teeth. 

Baekhyun raised an eyebrow, snorting.  “Kill you? Now? Oh no. There are certain specifications put upon your bounty. Lord Dunstan, you see, wants you to suffer. As his daughter did.”  Baekhyun grinned, canines catching in the moonlight.  “So, you won’t be dying just yet. Not if I can help it.”

 

 

Sitting in the corner of a tavern a two-days ride from Lord Dunstan’s lands, feet kicked up on the table, Baekhyun counted his latest payment.  One of his swords was on the table next to his feet, within easy reach, to ward off any ambitious thoughts from the tavern’s late-night crowd.  Although, his dress of leather and furs – distinctly Viking in their design and materiality – was doing a rather good job of that itself.

He smiled, placing the last silver pound on the table before shoveling all the coins back into their purse.  Lord Dunstan had definitely gone beyond his means for this bounty, likely putting the Frye’s into debt with some baron or other.  Especially since he had paid Baekhyun more than what was originally put on Eadgar’s head when he saw the condition of the murderer’s body.  Lord Dunstan had taken one look at what was left of the man who had brutalized his daughter and sent for his servants to increase the bounty hunter’s payment, his eyes steely as he continued to stare at the corpse.

Luckily, the Frye household’s potential debt was of no concern to Baekhyun.  He took a long drink from his pint of ale, sighing as the alcohol warmed his body.  So long as he got paid, all was in order as far as he was concerned.

 

Deciding that he’d earned himself a hearty meal after tracking Eadgar for the past week, Baekhyun called over one of the barmaids – a young girl that couldn’t have been past her sixteenth year – flashing her a charming smile that had her blushing as he ordered bread and a hot meal, asking if she could make sure he got some of the better cuts of meat, eyes curving up sweetly when she stuttered out a shy ‘yes’.  He watched her walk away, smile still in place as he caught the way some of the other patrons were eyeing her as if _she_ was on the menu.  He was considering intervening – the tavern keeper would surely make his meal free if he kept his daughter out of the clutches of some dangerous transient – when a hooded figure plopped down into the seat across from him.

Baekhyun didn’t outwardly react, eyes still following the young barmaid as she took orders from other tables, the only movement indicating he’d noticed the stranger being the way his hand settled on the hilt of his sword.

“I don’t recall inviting you to sit and dine with me,” he told the newcomer, his tone deceptively light and playful.  “I suggest you find seating elsewhere.”

“You’re the bounty hunter known as the Fang of the North, are you not?”

Baekhyun sighed, gaze sliding over to his unwelcomed tablemate.  He wore a high-quality traveling cloak unembellished by any family sigil or coat of arms.  His hood was drawn low, leaving only the lower half of his face out of shadow, highlighting a well-kept graying beard.  The man had been silent when he approached, and his form was stately rather than bulky, so he likely had a single sword on hand.  Possibly a knife or two tucked away on his person.

Baekhyun tilted his head.  _Interesting._

“Since you’re sitting here I’m assuming I don’t really need to answer that,” Baekhyun drawled.  “I hope you have a good reason for interrupting my dinner. I’ve killed people for less, as I’m sure you’re well aware.”

The man couldn’t hide his disapproving grimace, and Baekhyun had to swallow down a chuckle.  If he hadn’t been sure the older man across from him was Saxon before, he was now.

“I’ve been sent on behalf of a concerned third party to request your services,” the hooded man answered primly, folding his hands on the table.

“Hmm,” Baekhyun hummed, moving his feet when the young barmaid returned with his food and a small, bashful smile.  “Last I checked, I was a bounty hunter, not a sell-sword. My services aren’t for hire at the leisure of whichever wealthy noble wants someone to disappear.”  He cut off a chunk of meat, stuffing it in his mouth along with a piece of bread before chasing it with a swig of ale.  “So if that’s all you wanted-“

“I’m sure you’ve heard of the Wraith,” the man said, cutting Baekhyun off.

Baekhyun froze, muscles tensing as big, dark, angry eyes stared back at him from his memory.  It took more self-control than he’d ever like to admit to pull himself back to the present, forcing his muscles to unlock as he continued eating.

“I may have,” he said, clearing his throat.

The hooded man gave him a smug smile that told Baekhyun his forced nonchalance wasn’t bought.  “The Wraith has crossed a powerful man and I’ve been sent to ask you to bring him to justice.”

“By justice,” Baekhyun started, gesturing with his knife, “you mean your master-“

“I never said-“

“-Your lord, or whoever is holding your leash,” Baekhyun continued, waving the man off.  “He wants the Wraith dead.”

“Yes,” the older man answered, tone clipped, disgruntled from being so easily dismissed.

Baekhyun eyed him, gaze growing darker – more feral – as he turned the request over in his head.  It was a dangerous job, arguably one of the hardest targets he’d ever gone after, and highly likely to end with him dead or seriously injured.  There was also the issue of having to locate the Wraith, a challenge in and of itself considering the assassin knew how to keep his head down better than most.  But still, the thought of crossing blades with the elusive killer again…

Baekhyun’s grip on his cutlery tightened, a manic grin threatening to split his face in half.

Who was he kidding.  His decision was already made.

“Tell your lord I’ll do it.”

The Saxon sat straighter in his seat.  Bakhyun wished he could see the expressions crossing over the man’s face, not liking the fact that he hadn’t been able to get a proper read on him beyond the fact that he was a Saxon underling with delicate Saxon sensibilities.

“You don’t want to hear the offered price?”

“I’m sure it’ll be appropriate,” Baekhyun shrugged.  “I would hope someone intent on obtaining my services isn’t stupid enough to underpay me.”

“Of course,” the Saxon said, clearing his throat.  He pushed away from the table, stumbling when someone bumped into him, jarring him enough to stumble.  The movement needed to balance himself on the table shifted his traveling cloak just enough for Baekhyun to catch a peek of his sword’s pommel.  Unfortunately, all he could make out was that it was made of a rounded piece of hammered steel and not much else before the Saxon was quickly covering it.

He tensed, likely narrowing his eyes at Baekhyun from under his hood, trying to discern what the bounty hunter had managed to see.  Baekhyun simply smiled back, gaze steady on the other man’s face as he placed another chunk of meat in his mouth.

“I’ll return to this tavern every fortnight,” he continued slowly, a wary edge entering his tone.  “When you have finished with the job, come find me here.”

“And the matter of my payment?” Baekhyun asked, still smiling.  “I don’t suppose you’re going to travel here with a satchel of silver pieces each time.”

“When you return, I’ll lead you to my benefactor, who would like to check proof of death himself before he pays you.”

 _Well doesn’t that sound ominous_ , Baekhyun mused.  “You know, you could always tell me your benefactor’s name and I can simply go to him when I’ve finished.”

The older man pursed his lips, hands unconsciously gripping his cloak, pulling it tighter around himself.  “I’m afraid not. If that’s all, then I’ll be taking my leave.”  He dipped his head in a barely there bow.  “Enjoy your meal, sir.”

With that, the mysterious Saxon left, cloak billowing out behind him.  Baekhyun watched him go, sharp eyes taking in the man’s gait and the way he carried himself, reaffirming the suspicions that had been brewing in his mind regarding the unnamed man’s position.

“A dramatic fuck, wasn’t he.”

A genuine smile pulled at Baekhyun’s lips as a familiar presence took the freshly vacated seat.

“Saxons. All about the show, never about the action,” Baekhyun snorted.  “Now, last I checked, you were in a different land entirely. What brought you back north, Jongdae? Miss me too much?”

Jongdae laughed, swiping Baekhyun’s pint to take a long drink.  “I heard something interesting while away that I thought you should know about. I didn’t expect to find you being bothered by a hooded stranger, though.”

“The only bother was that I’m still not sure which house he serves,” Baekhyun grumbled, tearing a piece off his bread with a bit too much force.  “He barely budged when you ran into him. I couldn’t even see the crest on his sword.”

“He was sturdier than I expected,” Jongdae whined, kicking Baekhyun’s shin under the table.  “What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t _‘accidentally‘_ bump into him again. He was already ridiculously tense as it was.”

“Tackled him?” Baekhyun suggested, tone innocent, biting his cheek to keep from smiling.

“Ah, yes,” Jongdae snorted.  “Because that would’ve ended so well.”

“You can hold your own in a fight,” Baekhyun laughed.  “Much better than you ever let on.”

“Just because you can fight doesn’t mean you should, Baekhyun. Not everyone likes charging into battles the way you do.”

Baekhyun shrugged, conceding the point.  Jongdae wasn’t wrong after all.  Baekhyun enjoyed the thrill of battle far more than a person should.  It would get him killed one day, and quite frankly he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Either way, what’s passed is passed,” Baekhyun said, focusing back on his food.  “What did you want to tell me that was so urgent you hurried back to East Anglia in the winter?”

“The Wraith is looking for you.”

Baekhyun froze, his eyes snapping up to Jongdae’s.  His friend’s expression was uncharacteristically solemn, concern lining his face.

“Oh?” Baekhyun asked, tone light.  “Where’d you hear this from?”

“Minseok.”

“I thought he said he didn’t want any part in my ‘idiotic life decisions’ anymore.”

Jongdae’s mouth pressed into a line of disapproval.  “Just because he doesn’t want to be dragged into your messes by association doesn’t mean he doesn’t worry. And he’s worried, Baekhyun. If the Wraith is looking for you, it can’t mean anything good.”

“He’s not being very subtle about it,” Baekhyun hummed around a mouthful of meat.

“That’s even worse. It means he doesn’t care if you somehow find out.”  Jongdae sighed, running a hand through his hair.  “Baekhyun, this is serious. The Wraith is coming for you, and he’s never failed to complete a job.”

 _He has_ , Baekhyun thought, a thrill going down his spine.  _Once.  Because of me._

Instead, Baekhyun gave Jongdae’s hand a little pat, calling over the barmaid to bring his friend his own pint.  The other man was in desperate need of something to calm his nerves.

“I understand it’s serious, Jongdae,” Baekhyun told him, hand unconsciously going up to the thin scar that cut through his eyebrow and down the line of his cheek.  “But, I can’t help seeing this as a stroke of luck. He’s saving me the trouble of tracking him down, after all.”

“Why the fuck would you want to tra- wait,” Jongdae’s brows furrowed, two straight lines slanting down as the gears in his head quickly turned.  “That’s what the cloaked man wanted? To hire you to go after the Wraith?”

Baekhyun grinned, canines digging into his bottom lip.  “It seems the assassin has pissed someone off enough that they’re willing to gamble their life for a chance to see his head roll.”

“You mean _your_ life,” Jongdae said, still frowning.  “You don’t know who your new benefactor is.”

Baekhyun waved Jongdae off.  “It doesn’t matter at this point. There’s no way I wasn’t going to accept the request.”

“Of course not,” Jongdae muttered unhappily, offering a quick smile to the barmaid when she came by with his ale.  “Not when it’s giving you a chance to test yourself.”

Baekhyun just smiled, a dangerous fire burning in his eyes.  Jongdae didn’t need to know that this was personal.  He didn’t need to know that the Wraith was likely doing it for similar reasons, which was why he was being so uncharacteristically open with his movements when he knew Baekhyun would likely catch wind of them.  It was a challenge and an invitation rolled into one.  _Run if you’re scared or face me like you mean it, either way I’m coming for you._   It didn’t matter who was hiring them or why – not now at least – the only important thing being the opportunity to cross swords again.  To finish what started in the woods of Mercia seasons ago.

“I’ll look into figuring out which noble hired you,” Jongdae started, drawing Baekhyun’s mind back to the conversation at hand.  “Just, promise you’ll make an effort to be careful about this. As much of a headache as you can be, I don’t want to see you dead.”

“I promise,” Baekhyun said, smile turning wolfish, skin itching with anticipation.  _Find me.  Fight me.  Let’s see who’s truly the best_.  “When he comes, he won’t know what hit him.”

 

 

 

 

There was something poetic about returning to Mercia on a hunt for the man that had chased him out of it.  Kyungsoo wasn’t usually one for sentiment – because that was a good way to get yourself killed – but he couldn’t help the waves of nostalgia that rushed over him as he rode his horse through the snow laden forest along the Essex-Mercia border.  Under his layers of black wolf furs and leather, the scar on his back gave off a dull ache, as if resonating with the land in which he’d gotten it.  It was almost soothing, the soft pain keeping Kyungsoo grounded in the present.  The Fang of the North wasn’t someone he could afford to track with his head lost in memories, especially if he was aware that Kyungsoo was on his tail.  Which Kyungsoo was sure he was, after all, he’d made sure to make it known to those who traveled in their circles that he was looking for the bounty hunter.

Baekhyun would have to be truly incompetent to not have heard whispers of Kyungsoo’s intentions.  _And Baekhyun is far from incompetent._

As if summoned by his thoughts, Kyungsoo heard a faint snap off to his left, reflexes kicking in before he could process anything else besides _danger_.  He ducked to the side of his saddle, muscles taut as he held himself there, two arrows whizzing by overhead and imbedding themselves in a nearby tree.  Kyungsoo eyed their trajectory, noting that if he’d moved a second later, they would’ve been sticking out of his head instead.

“I hope you didn’t expect me to wait around for you,” a strong, rich voice called from amongst the trees.

“Of course not,” Kyungsoo called back, breathing carefully as he held himself still.  He was quickly working through his options, trying to calculate whether he’d be able to make it to cover before Baekhyun fired off another arrow, or if he should take his chances and spur on his horse.  “I would’ve been disappointed if you had.”

There was a beat of silence before a flurry of movement to Kyungsoo’s right forced him to let go of his reins, dropping to the snow covered floor with a grunt.  There was a thin whistle of metal slicing through air just above Kyungsoo’s head – far too close for comfort – and a startled whiny from his horse which Kyungsoo didn’t have time to think about, before he was forced to roll out of the way as a second sword came swinging down in a deadly arc.

“Fucker,” Kyungsoo hissed, rolling to his feet and drawing his sword in one motion, barely managing to parry another vicious strike.

Baekhyun laughed, breathless, face glowing in the moonlight.  “Amazing! You know, it’s not normal to react that quickly.”

 _It’s not normal to move so silently_ , Kyungsoo thought bitterly.

“I’m insulted,” Kyungsoo spat out instead, speaking in his mother tongue, “that you thought it’d be that easy to kill me, Byun Baekhyun.”

Baekhyun’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second before a sharp, feral grin was pulling at his lips.  “I don’t know whether to be flattered that you made the effort to learn my name, or surprised that you’re just as far from home as I am.”

Kyungsoo pulled out one of his short blades in answer, aiming for the bounty hunter’s hands with a quick slash.  Baekhyun, easily dodged, twirling his swords before coming in for another strike.  Each hit echoed in the surrounding forest, harsh against the otherwise still silence.  Kyungsoo found himself being pushed back, slowly losing ground under Baekhyun’s onslaught, caught off guard by just how strong the other man actually was.

“I do find it unfair, though,” Baekhyun continued as he swung and stabbed his swords again and again against Kyungsoo’s defenses, his tone conversational, “that you know my name, but I don’t know yours.”

Kyungsoo swallowed down a cry of pain as one of Baekhyun’s swords drove home, catching him in the upper arm.  In retaliation, Kyungsoo dropped to the ground, swinging his leg out and catching Baekhyun’s knees.  Baekhyun fell with a loud grunt, eyes blinking in surprise.  Kyungsoo took the opening to launch himself forward with a snarl, his short blade digging harshly into the small area of shoulder under Baekhyun’s furs that wasn’t protected by another layer of leather.  Unlike Kyungsoo, Baekhyun did cry out, a sharp sound that pierced the cold night air, his blood soaking the assassin’s gloves.

Kyungsoo leaned forward, putting his full weight onto his blade, feeling it sink deeper.  Baekhyun made a low whimper under him, breathing hard through his nose, and Kyungsoo smiled.  He brought his mouth against Baekhyun’s ear, pushing the blade until it could go no further.  “I don’t give my name to those who’ll be dead soon anyway.”

 Baekhyun wheezed, something akin to laughter shaking his body, making Kyungsoo frown.  Who laughed in the face of their own death?

“I knew this job would be worth it,” Baekhyun managed out through grit teeth.  “I’m so going to enjoy killing you.”

Before Kyungsoo could laugh at that bold statement, pain blossomed along his ribs, Baekhyun having driven his knee fast and hard into Kyungsoo’s side.  The assassin jerked away from the force of the blow, twisting the blade in Baekhyun’s shoulder with the movement.  Baekhyun cried out again but didn’t relent, freeing an arm from where it had been pinned and locking it around Kyungsoo’s neck, bringing his knee up again and again into Kyungsoo’s ribs until there was a distinct crack of bones breaking.

Kyungsoo yelped, yanking down on his short blade, forcing Baekhyun to loosen up just enough for him to push himself away.  Kyungsoo’s breaths were coming in short pants, the assassin not daring to try and breathe deeper from a mixture of pain and fear that he could cause himself more damage.  He pulled himself upright with the help of his sword, taking unsteady steps towards where he could just make out the shape of his horse waiting – ever loyal.  He heard Baekhyun groan as the man tried to pull Kyungsoo’s blade from his shoulder, moving as fast as he could against the pain now radiating down his entire left side.

Kyungsoo managed to pull himself onto his horse just as Baekhyun freed his shoulder with a victorious cry, urging his mount on and away from the murderous bounty hunter.

“Coward!” Baekhyun roared behind him, fading into the distance as Kyungsoo’s horse carried him away on steady hooves.

The last thing Kyungsoo thought, completely unbidden,  before the spots of black dancing in his vision overwhelmed him, was how hauntingly beautiful the Fang of the North was with the fire of a fight lighting up his eyes.

 

 

 

 

The next time they clashed, Baekhyun hadn’t even seen it coming.  He’d been carted up to Northumbria, taken to the safety of Eirik’s lands by an irate Jongdae to recover from his wound, being forced to stay put and rest for four fortnights before he was given the okay to even look at his swords again.

Here, amongst the Vikings, he wasn’t Byun Baekhyun the deadly bounty hunter from a foreign land.  Here, he was Baekhyun Gunnarson, brother to Eirik Gunnarson.  Someone to be respected.  Here, he was safe.  Or, at least he was supposed to be.

He had to give it to the Wraith, the man was scarily stealthy when he actually wanted to be.

The assassin appeared practically out of thin air, slamming into Baekhyun like a wild boar while he’d been walking back from bathing.  Baekhyun landed hard on his back, leaving him winded and gasping for air.  His freshly healed shoulder screamed in protest as the assassin sat on his chest, knee digging into it, effectively pinning Baekhyun to the ground.

“I want my weapon back,” was the first thing out of the Wraith’s mouth once Baekhyun had stopped struggling and instead resorted to glaring up at the other man.

“That pig-sticker?” Baekhyun scoffed, blindly groping for something, anything, to use as a weapon.  “Sold it off. Hope you weren’t expecting to get it back.”

It was a lie.  The short blade was a thing of beauty and currently sitting back with all of his other weapons.  There was no way he’d ever get rid of it.  But there was no way for the Wraith to know that, and Baekhyun decided the lie was worth it when he got to watch the Wraith’s round eyes darken and narrow in poorly concealed anger.

He pressed more weight onto Baekhyun’s shoulder.  “That blade was a gift.”

“Shouldn’t have left it then,” Baekhyun bit back.

“Insolent fuc-“

Baekhyun’s hand finally closed around a small but sharp rock, bringing it up in a fast arc, cutting the assassin off.  The Wraith easily caught and held Baekhyun’s wrist in an impressive display of strength that had a thrilled shiver running down Baekhyun’s back.

“Did you really think that would work?” the Wraith asked, raising a dark eyebrow.

Baekhyun gave him a wolfish smile.  “It didn’t have to.”

He used the Wraith’s grip on his wrist as leverage to bring up his legs, locking them around the Wraith’s neck and pulling the slightly shorter man back.  Once the weight on his chest was gone, Baekhyun kicked a leg out, catching the assassin under the chin.  The Wraith’s head snapped back with a surprised grunt, hands automatically coming up to protect his face.  Baekhyun took the opportunity to roll to his feet and lunge for his bundle of used clothes, where he had a dagger tucked away.

The Wraith was on him again just as his hand closed around the dagger’s hilt, grabbing a fistful of Baekhyun’s hair and _yanking_.

“Fuck!” Baekhyun shouted, his head being held at an awkward angle.

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you long hair is a weakness in battle?” the Wraith hissed, trapping Baekhyun in a chokehold, his forearm bearing down on Baekhyun’s throat.

“It’s never been an issue before,” the bounty hunter choked out, twirling the dagger in his grip and slashing blindly with it.

He felt the weapon make contact, a warm spatter on his tunic telling him he’d managed to slice to the skin.  Unfortunately, the Wraith didn’t let go, instead pressing himself to Baekhyun’s back tighter, so that if he wanted to attack again Baekhyun would have to twist his arm at an unnatural and ineffective angle.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Baekhyun faintly registered that the chest pressed against him was firm and well-muscled, the type of body that Baekhyun appreciated on his bed partners.  The larger portion of his mind – in a voice that sounded vaguely like Jongdae’s – was telling him he was very close to blacking out from lack of air, and wouldn’t that be a pathetic way to go.

He couldn’t do anything about the assassin’s arms, knowing he’d be more likely to stab himself in the throat or face if he tried to slash at the cold metal of the Wraith’s arm guards, or his legs for similar reasons.  But, now that the assassin was practically plastered to Baekhyun’s back, it meant his previously broken ribs were within easy range.  So Baekhyun brought his elbow back as hard as he could.  He did it again, and again, ignoring the fuzzing around the edge of his vision, until the Wraith let go of him with a shove.

Baekhyun stumbled forward coughing, turning to face the Wraith with his dagger out.  The Wraith squared off in front of him, drawing out a pair of wrist blades, standing so that his left side was better protected.  They stood there like that, tensed and ready to strike.  Neither daring to make the first move.

It was a waiting game that would’ve likely gone on had shouts in the distance not caught both their attentions.  Baekhyun easily recognized the loudest voice as belonging to Jongdae, meaning the second was likely Eirik and his men.  _Thank the gods_.

Baekhyun slid his gaze back to the Wraith, watching a series of emotions flicker through his eyes before he seemed to come to a decision.  As quickly as he’d come, the Wraith disappeared, darting off into the thicket of trees and out of sight just as Jongdae arrived.

“You're late,” Baekhyun teased, voice hoarse.

Jongdae shot him an unamused glare, sheathing his sword.  “I told you not to come out here alone.”

Baekhyun wobbled on his feet.  “Didn’t think he’d come all the way up here into Viking territory.”

Jongdae eyed him before sighing.  He helped Baekhyun crumble to the floor, checking over his shoulder like a concerned mother hen.  “Are you ready to admit you may be in over your head on this one?”

Baekhyun hummed.  “A little. Maybe.”  _But it’s too late to back down now._  

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always welcome.


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